by DL White
I shook my head. “My Ma called me this afternoon, I guess wanting to know why I didn’t tell her I was back in town and doing a show with my long lost father. I hopped on a flight, didn’t even land an hour ago. I was hoping to see him before he embarrassed me in front of all of New York, but—”
Just then a door opened, spilling a beam of light across the main stage. I knew from his shadow, the shape of his body and how he moved that it was Ruben.
“Excuse me,” I muttered to Obie, then headed for the stairs. I made it to the floor just as he was making his way to the booth.
“Oh…” The look of surprise on his face was mildly satisfying. He hadn’t expected to see me. He’d planned on destroying my career without me even knowing.
“Oh,” I mimicked, stepping close. “You didn’t think you would see me, did you? Didn’t think my mother would call me to warn me about this bullshit you booked— and paid for. I don’t pay for spots, Ruben.”
“Now hold on, son. I just wanted—”
“Nuh uh. Let’s cut that off right now.” My brow furrowed and I shook my head, slowly back and forth, seething all over him. “My mother calls me son. You are no more a father to me than that dying ficus tree in the corner. You haven’t earned the right to call me son.”
“You wait a goddamn minute,” Ruben said, straightening up nice and tall like he could even attempt to tower over me. I had a good inch and a half on him, at least. “I been up at Fishkill all those years, feeling bad about how much you hated me. I wasn't there for you because of a stupid mistake and I get that. But you are half me, half my bloodline— you look just like me, so don’t stand here and tell me I’m not your father.”
“And yet, here I am. Standing here telling you that you are not my father. Stupid mistake? How about a stupid mistake and then a refusal to stand up for people who were counting on you, man? You left my mother and your child high and dry on some honor shit. I might have been willing to talk to you when I got back here at the end of the summer, but this stunt tonight?”
I shook my head, frowning hard. “This takes it over the edge. There is no show tonight. I already canceled it with Drae.”
“Our names are still up outside and I have—”
I grabbed the cd he produced from his pocket, slipped it out of its jewel case and crushed it in my fist.
“You. don’t. have. shit,” I hissed, dropping the mirrored pieces to the beat up wooden floor. “You never did. You don’t get to come out of prison and act like you know me, act like we are some part of a legacy together. You are no one to me. I despise you. And so does my mother.”
His mouth hung open as he stared at the pieces of the disc scattered around us. His eyes lifted to mine, a glossy sheen over the dark amber irises. “Son...Wade, I just wanted to… I thought if we…”
I stepped aside, intending to leave as soon as I said my piece. “Make this the last time I have to speak to you about using my name and my reputation. And I don’t want to hear about you bothering my mother again. If I do, I’ll be paying a visit to your parole officer. Because I don’t know where you got five thousand dollars from, but I’m betting the source isn’t legal.”
I passed him, brushing his shoulder as I did so, and loped out of the room, headed back to the offices. I didn’t even turn around to say the rest.
“Disappear, Ruben. I don’t want to see you again. Take my advice and disappear.”
15
Ameenah
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to break it!”
“You didn’t break it. It’s sturdy. It’s just…” I jiggled the lever on the new-to-me slushie machine that I had just installed the day before. I saw why a company out on St. Simon’s Island, Georgia, was selling it. “It’s just a little sticky.”
“It’s a lot sticky, Ameenah. How are we supposed to serve slushies out of this?”
I reached behind the machine and turned it off. The mechanical whirring of juice and ice in the machine slowed to a crawl, then stopped.
“You’re not, today. Let’s dump this stuff out of it and I’ll look at it later on.”
I heard the shuffling of feet at the door of the shack and turned around to greet our newest customers… but I froze as soon as I’d turned around. My jaw fell open and my mind went blank.
“Uhm...hi, there.” Dionne tried greeting the middle-aged couple standing in the middle of the shop, looking completely out of place in their New York summer attire. They mumbled a hello, then glanced around, looking for a table where they could sit. I only had tables along the walls and the front of the shop with the gaping, open space that showed off a view of the beach.
“Mama. Daddy, what… what are you guys doing here? Did you call? I wasn’t…”
“Well,” my dad started, easing into a chair. “We heard your little venture was doing alright. Hadn’t really seen any pictures or… heard much from you.”
He slipped a pair of keys into the pocket of bright yellow knee-length shorts. The collar of his cotton t-shirt was damp.
My mother glistened with a light sheen of sweat in a sleeveless black top and matching shorts. “We had some business in Houston, so we took a little detour. Visit our daughter. See what — ” She glanced up into the rafters at the ceiling fan slowly rotating, not stirring up a breeze at all. “... this is all about.”
I moved around the counter to the front of the shop. “Well, um… it’s good to see you. Welcome, welcome.” I hugged and kissed them both, though I wasn’t feeling loving and welcoming at the moment.
I inhaled and exhaled, trying to come to grips with the fact that my parents had just shown up on the island, already looking down their noses at my place of business. I wanted to be proud, to show it off to them. I wanted them to see that they had taught me well, that I knew what I was doing and that it had been a great idea, a good investment of money and that I was happy.
I brightened, clapping my palms together. “So this is my shop! Tikis & Cream on the boardwalk. As you can see, I’m as close to the beach as I could get without having to pay for beachfront real estate. We have a nice view and I do a good bit of business.”
I turned and pointed to Dionne, who stood ramrod straight in front. “This is Dionne. She works here part time so that I don’t run myself into the ground. And she teaches yoga on the beach at sunset.”
“Oh, you have an employee. Impressive.” I skipped the comment from my father that could be read either as condescending or actual pride. Or a little of both.
“She’s new to the island, too. Her boyfriend runs Recreation Rental , if you wanted to rent kayaks or a stand up paddle or a canoe—”
“I don’t think we’re quite canoe people, dear. But it sounds nice, I’m sure.” My mother adjusted the large black purse she drags everywhere. “We are hot and tired. We booked a room at The Bay Inn, since you don’t have room for us at the house.”
I rolled my eyes at the jab, then let it go. “Okay, great. Why don’t you go check in, relax and cool down? I close up the shop in a few hours, so I’ll call you and we can meet for dinner.”
“Fine,” said my dad, rising and pulling the keys out of his pocket, though he wouldn’t need them. The Bay Inn was less than a block away. “But I don’t want any boardwalk food. Hot dogs and what not. I’d like an actual meal.”
“We have nice restaurants here, Daddy. We always have. And for dessert maybe we can go to Adele’s, grandma’s favorite bakery. Dionne and I went there the other night—”
“Your father doesn’t need anymore sweets. His sugar is already too high.”
My parents ambled out of the shop, mumbling the entire way. As soon as they were gone, I turned to Dionne and gave her a withering look. Her face broke into a wide, sympathetic smile.
“I take it the folks weren’t into your idea to move to an island and start a business.”
“Oh you got that impression?” I walked around the perimeter of the shop, pushing in chairs and placing the menus back in their holders. “What
gave it away?”
“The way they had something slick to say about everything. My parents were the same way. They haven’t even come down here to see how we’re making it, but it’s okay. Jason and I are doing just fine, with or without their approval.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t need them to love it but…” I huffed a breath while pulling the bag of garbage from the can, then tying the ends in a knot. “It sure would be great if they could just see things from my point of view.”
“You want me to take that out?”
I shook my head, picking up the bag. “No. Actually, do you mind closing up today? I’m going to head home and clean up. They’ll want to come by the house, even if they aren’t staying there.”
A half hour later, I was rushing from room to room putting things away, straightening things. I wasn’t expecting company, and my hours meant my housekeeping skills had gone a little slack. Wade had left a few things around and I wanted to be sure to grab them up and put them away before my parents saw them. They were old school and would never approve of the Beach Thing.
Not that I needed to them to approve, but I didn’t want to hear my mother’s mouth or see that lipstick covered frown that came with an ear full of judgement. “Proper young ladies shouldn’t…”
Well, Ameenah does.
I still hadn’t heard from Wade. No calls, no texts, no notes left in my mailbox. He’d gone radio silent for some reason, and while it was probably for the best, I still wished we could have at least talked.
I missed him, hearing his voice. Feeling his energy around me, his hands on me. His voice in my ear, his breath on my neck, the sounds he made when we were joined…
I shook my head, trying to skip ahead to the next track. I was anxious to get to the point of not missing him, not thinking about him, not wanting to be with him.
I wasn’t there yet, though.
I turned on the shower so I could get cleaned up. I’d picked a nice restaurant with a view of Black Diamond Bay. I hoped to have a pleasant dinner and somehow convince my parents I was doing the right thing, the thing I believed my grandmother wanted me to do. Why else would she leave the house — a house I’d loved to visit — to me?
As soon as the bathroom was warm and steamy, I stepped into the shower. Wade’s bottle of Bevel Man Cave shower gel was nestled into the corner behind the shampoo. I grabbed it and flipped the top up, squeezing it just so I could sniff the scent. The vanilla and tea tree oil fragrance was so… him that it brought tears to my eyes.
I blinked them back, tucking the bottle behind the others on my shower rack. I picked up the shower gel, squeezed some on a bath puff and lathered up, letting my mind wander.
It landed on Wade and the last shower we’d taken together.
I soaped up, letting the suds cascade south, remembering how Wade liked to rub the gel between his palms and use his hands to scrub my body, stopping at various spots like the tips of my nipples and the now famous glorious hips and the warm space between my thighs.
My hands began tracing the same paths in the same way, imagining that they were Wade’s. The gritty, guttural sounds from my throat bouncing off of the bathroom tile were reminiscent of how they’d sounded when I was with him, except I missed the baritone of his voice alongside mine.
Slick with soap and hot water, my fingers slipped around my engorged clit while my mind played along. I teased myself to the very edge… and then let myself fall over, with Wade in the starring role, his skin plastered against mine, his groans of pleasure in my ear while I came down.
And then I opened my eyes. And remembered that I was alone. I exhaled slowly and rinsed off, trying to bring myself back to reality.
Maybe I could call him.
I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a bath sheet to dab some water off, then wrapped it around me while I padded to the bedroom.
If he wanted to talk to me, he would have called.
I told myself that was true, and continued getting dressed, pulling on a bra and pair of panties, then pulling my hair out of its ponytail and fluffing my curls around my face. The island sun had given me a nice glow, so I didn’t need much but lip gloss.
He’s not the only person with a working phone, I thought, slipping into a short-sleeved blue sundress. I could call. Just to say hi.
I slipped on a pair of sandals, pulled a sweater from the hall closet and my purse from the kitchen. My phone was tucked away in its usual place, in a pocket along the side.
As I pulled it from the pocket, I noticed that I’d missed a few texts — one from Dionne, telling me she’d closed up and the shop was fine. One from my mother letting me know that they were ready to be picked up at their hotel.
And one from Wade. I blinked a few times just in case I’d dreamt it, but there it was.
Wade M
It’s been a couple days and I apologize. Had to run home for a minute, handle some business. Back tomorrow. Can I see u?
I laid a hand over my galloping heartbeat and tried to breathe. Then held the phone in both hands while my thumbs shakily typed out a message.
Tomorrow would be great, I started to send. Then I remembered my parents were in town. Dammit! I stomped a foot like someone could actually see my tantrum.
Tomorrow, yes — late, though. Parents decided to surprise me.
Wade M
For real? All the way from Park Slope?
Yeah. I’m thrilled, I typed, knowing he would pick up on the sarcasm.
Wade M
I’ll hit you when I land. You let me know when you’re free. I’ll be ready.
I grinned, giggling a little. Cause you stay ready, right?
Wade M
That’s right. :) Talk tomorrow.
I heaved an embarrassingly huge sigh of relief as I tucked the phone away and headed out the door to my car. I caught a glance of myself in the visor mirror and tried hard to wipe that look from my face — the twinkling eyes, the blushing cheeks, the smile on my lips — but it wouldn’t go away.
Oh well. The folks will just think I’m thrilled to see them.
16
Wade
I woke up with a headache. The kind of headache that makes you reach back into your memory and try to recall what exactly you did or drank the night before that had your mouth tasting like roadkill covered in cotton balls. I remembered that I’d hung around at Tonic and try to salvage the evening. I’d spun a set or two, and the bottle girl serving the sound booth kept me lit most of the night.
Then I moved to VIP and kicked it with some of my friends from the neighborhood and some women who scammed their way behind the velvet ropes with low-cut dresses and very short hemlines. A few of them decided I was “theirs” and didn’t leave me much time to myself, but I escaped with my dignity.
Well, some of my dignity. My eyes were barely open before I heard Ma stomping around the kitchen. I was laid out on her couch in last night’s clothes, a thin blanket covering me.
“Yo, Ma,” I croaked. “Could you step a little lighter?”
I heard her gritty chuckle, then heard her footfalls — only slightly softer — heading in my direction. She appeared in front of me in a housedress, holding a mug and offering two white pills in her palm. I sat up, wincing, taking both and using the hot tea to wash down the aspirin.
“So when my son shows up at my door at three am stinking drunk, makes me practically carry him to the couch and put him to sleep, I’m supposed to adjust my way of life in reverence to his hangover headache?”
I gave her a look, then yawned, smacking my lips together. “Would you mind?”
She let out a hmph and shuffled away, back to the kitchen. “Do you think you can eat something?”
My stomach growled, letting me know I could. I needed to soak up the alcohol in my system, anyway. “What are you making?”
“Turkey sausage. Fried potatoes. Pancakes. Eggs. Some biscuits.”
“Ma, you’re making all of that? For me?”
She came around the corner again, this time bearing a wooden tray. It was laden with plates of food, silverware, salt and pepper and a glass of orange juice. She set the tray down on the table in front of me and stood, pressing her fists into her hips.
“You’re not going to sit on my couch all day. I put your suitcase in the spare room. Eat and then get in the shower.”
“Aight. Thanks for breakfast, Ma.”
“Mmmhmmm,” she hummed, leaving the room, her sandals flapping against the soles of her feet. That, to me, was the Sound of Ma. I knew when I heard that sound that she was up and moving, usually coming for me.
I dug into the breakfast she’d made me, realizing that I was much hungrier than I’d thought I was. I hadn’t eaten since the day before and had drank on an empty stomach. I could definitely eat and did, wiping out the plates of pancakes, sausage and egg and the glass of juice in a few minutes.
I got up from the couch and folded the blanket she’d given me, then grabbed the tray and took it to the kitchen. She was seated at the island nursing some tea, her own demolished plate next to her mug, and flipping through a magazine. I rinsed the plates and the glass and put them in the dishwasher, then put the tray back in its storage spot in the pantry.
“Food was good. Thank you.”
“Mmhmmm. You get enough?”
“Yeah,” I said, coming around the island to drop a kiss on her cheek. “I’m full. I’m gonna go shower. What are you doing today?”
“Before you go, son…” She pulled out the seat next to her and pointed, which meant “sit”. I braced myself, knowing she had questions about Ruben and wanted to know what had happened the night before.
“Ma, I know you want to get into what went on last night—”
“So spill it.”
“I just don’t know if I want to talk about it yet.”
“You’d better find some words to say to me, young man.”
I huffed a frustrated breath, rubbing a palm over my disheveled hair and the lines across my forehead. I hadn’t even processed it myself — the confrontation, the order to him to disappear and to stay away from her. Why and how he thought he could build a relationship with me in that way. Why he even felt he was entitled to a relationship with me.
